


The Valentine's Day 'Fic

by yuffiehighwind



Series: Miscellaneous HTLJ [2]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-01
Updated: 2003-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discord and Strife don't usually participate on Lover's Day, but things might be different this year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Valentine's Day 'Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Written February 2003; revised May 2014. Mentions Lilith, implying this takes place during the events of Young Hercules. I don't remember if it was supposed to or not. Discord is Strife's aunt here, not his mother.

Birds chirped joyfully in their nests, rainbows curved across the sky, and the sun shone bright. Lovers held each other close and tight - celebrating their love with fine foods, flowers, and (more often than not) sex.

Aphrodite and her son Cupid were extremely busy, but didn’t allow themselves to grow weary from their exertions. The satisfaction of all the happy couples they matched made up for all the time and energy spent. 

All of Mount Olympus was more festive than usual. For one day out of the year, the family refrained from antagonizing each other, or at least _tried_ to hide their resentment with music, wine, and (you guessed it) lots and lots of _sex_. Aphrodite had her work cut out for her; the strangest gods were hooking up left and right.

Two refused to join in, however. It was a tradition of theirs every year to try and sabotage this day, but every year they failed and ended up sulking on Lachrymose’s Sulking Porch.

“Burn a temple?"

"Stone wouldn’t catch fire."

"Steal Aphrodite’s clothes?"

"Exhibitionist."

"Ruin Hercules’ love life?"

"Inadvertently got him laid last year, albeit by Iolaus."

"Get everybody drunk?"

"Already are."

"Kill some sheep?"

"Nobody’d notice."

"Start a strain of the bubonic plague?"

"Too complex."

"Make out?"

Discord’s eyebrows shot up. Up to this point, her replies to each of Strife’s suggestions had almost been automatic. Every year they tried the same old tricks and every year they failed became more and more frustrating. This holiday was just not meant to be ruined. No matter how many hearts were broken or how many temples burned or how many of Aphrodite’s bras were stolen, this day always managed to go off without a hitch. If the day did begin terribly, that pesky glimmer of hope always shone at the end of the tunnel. Love made the world go ‘round, and humans - no matter how cynical - always ate it right up. It made Discord sick. Sure, she was the Queen of Contention, but what really bugged her about the holiday was that she always ended up alone. 

But that wasn’t true; she was always with Strife. Not that his company made her feel much better, especially not on _this_ day. No, even in a crowded room she would still feel utterly isolated. Discord went through the reasons in her mind and continually blamed Ares. He had broken her heart, after all. Had others known, it would shock them. Her family was convinced nothing beat in Discord’s chest but a sullen drum.

If Strife made sexual advances, as he sometimes did - (despite whatever familial relationship they had; no one was sure what it actually was) - Discord usually ignored them or smacked him, typically the latter. But today his suggestion made her stop and think, _“Why in Tartarus not?”_ Lots of reasons. Shriek at him.

_"What?”_

Strife flashed her a grin. Discord’s withering stare quickly eradicated it, and he turned his attention back to gazing at the sunset.

"We could go crash Aphrodite’s party."

Discord shook her head. "No, they’re probably having a huge orgy by now."

It was Strife’s turn for eyebrow raising. Discord noticed his expression; he’d always had a crush on Cupid. 

"Cupid’s still at work shooting mortals, no doubt."

Strife sighed. No naked Cupid today. Discord smirked a bit, pleased. 

Wait, what? Pleased Strife wasn’t getting any tail? Ah, yes, of course, because that would make him more pathetic than her. She _did_ have Ares, after all.

Thinking of her ex-lover, Discord’s grin became a frown. Her chest felt tight, her breath hitched, and suddenly she was crying. She _didn’t_ have Ares, not really. Not like before. And of course it was on this one day that sort of thing mattered. Discord had no significant other, soulmate, or second half. Which hurt. _A lot._

Discord wiped away the tears and hid her face with her hair. She looked sidelong at Strife, who hadn’t noticed.She thanked Nyx for that. 

There was something much more pressing than her break-up with Ares. Had Strife been making a joke, or _would_ he…? 

 _Eww_ , Discord said to herself. _Perish the thought._

"Wow," Strife said, breaking the silence. "I can’t believe it’s already Lover’s Day."

Discord shrugged. 

"It ain’t too flashy a name, though. It doesn’t _pop_. How about changing it to…Who’s that guy? Ya know, that guy that…that does that stuff?”

The older goddess rolled her eyes. 

"Can you _be_ any more vague?"

"You know, he marries lots of people. Well, no, he doesn’t _marry_ marry them, he performs the ceremony. Like, in secret."

"Valentine?"

"Yeah, that’s the ticket! Valentine. Hey, why don’t we call it Valentine’s Day? Sounds pretty bitchin’ to me!"

Discord snorted a laugh. 

“Because Aphrodite would have a fit. Besides, come on, what kind of stupid name for a holiday is ‘Valentine’s Day?’"

"Well, _I_ think it’s creative."

"You would."

Not bothering to acknowledge the insult, the young god leaned back, propping himself up on his hands. Strife listened to the noises coming from the palace, but heard no orgy or unusual sounds except for Euterpe crooning "I Just Want Somebody To Love" at the top of her lungs and vastly out of key. It was better than Iolaus’ singing, at least. Mmm, young blonde mortal boys. Lilith was blonde. Cupid was blonde too.

Strife tried to refocus on the sulking, but his mind was now fixated on sex. He looked over at Discord, who seemed lost in thought, staring at the sunset. Her raven black hair blew past her pale face, and the shadows cast across her neck made the contrast stand out even more. Today she wore a flowing black and red dress in place of her armor, and in the orange glow of the sun her beauty was striking. He knew it was by no means a 24-7 effect; she was short and her hair typically frizzed out in all directions. Her makeup, in his opinion, made her look like a whore, and her armor was more suited to a dominatrix than a warrior. Unlike the handsome, clean-cut Cupid or sweet, clueless Lilith, associating with Discord - who was downright toxic on dark days and was still no cherub at her most lighthearted - made Strife remember who and what he was. They were two halves of a corrupt whole; Discord was merely older and pretended she was wiser. The goddess had a chilling bitterness about her, but also a vibrant passion for fun. She confused the shit out of him.

"So what did you mean by…? Never mind."

Like now, for example.

"What was that?” Strife asked. 

"Nothing,” she said. “It was nothing."

"No, you said something."

"I was going to ask you about what you said."

"About crashing the party?" 

Strife gestured behind them at the palace. Was it just light from the sunset, or was Discord’s face turning red?

"No, about…Forget it."

"Ruining Hercules’ love-life?"

"No."

"Burning a temple?"

_"No."_

"Well how can I know what you’re talking about if you won’t tell me?"

"Just _drop_ it, Strife."

"Ooh, someone’s testy."

“ _Strife.”_

"You don’t mean to say you were wondering if my offer’s still—“

"I was _wondering_ what you _meant_ by it."

Now Discord seemed to be sulking as much as one _could_ sulk on this porch. She avoided his eyes and tapped one foot impatiently. Or nervously?

"What do you mean, what did I mean?"

"I _mean_ what did you _mean_?"

"By what I said?"

"Yes."

"No particular meaning, just…You look sad."

Discord closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the sun on her face. She could tell it was getting colder on the mountain, although she couldn’t really feel it. The Earth’s weather had no affect on a god’s comfort. Discord felt somewhat queasy, though. That couldn’t be normal.

And Strife thought she was sad. (Which was code for “pitiful” and “pathetic” in her mind.) Sad! _He_ thought _she_ was sad! When her saddest friend – (No, only friend. No, she didn’t _have_ friends) – thought _she_ was sad, Discord knew she was pretty damn sad.

"And maybe we could just… _forget_ for a while,” he said.

Forgetting did sound good, Discord thought. But what would happen afterwards?

"And what about tomorrow?” she asked. “When all our memories come back?”

He shrugged. "Go back to normal, I suppose."

The older goddess shook her head, running through a list of all the reasons getting… _involved_ in any way with _him_ was a hugely bad idea, then felt herself nodding and switching her gaze from the sky to his eyes.

"Okay."

“O-okay?” he stammered. “You said okay?"

Before she could change her mind, Strife took her hand and clutched it tightly. His palms were sweaty, or were hers?

“Yes.”

“Alright, uh…” 

Strife looked around to see if anyone was watching, then puckered his lips and leaned forward. Discord laughed and Strife pulled back. He frowned and rolled his eyes while she regained her composure.

“Sorry, I just—” Discord remembered something Ares had told her long ago. Never apologize. "It’s just, this is so _weird._ "

Words, sounds, and images flashed through her mind - of Ares and their family; every risk and broken promise - and Discord had to force them down. To just pretend she was in love and happy and wasn’t the embodiment of discontent, for a few seconds, minutes, hours.

"The Sulking Porch isn’t a very good place for this sort of thing, is it?" Strife said. 

"No, I expect not."

“Then let’s have a change of scenery.”

Strife kept holding her hand, and used the other to run his fingers through her hair. It was tangled, as usual, and the motion slightly hurt. Discord winced so he was gentler, or as gentle as a typically ultra-hyper god of mischief could be. The sensation was still nice; he didn’t tug like Ares. He _wasn’t_ Ares, which was all that really mattered. The two faded into purple mist, teleporting somewhere - anywhere - private. 

The following year, Strife spent Valentine’s Day with Cupid, while Discord broke up fifty marriages and dissuaded a pair of donkeys from mating.

But for the moment, the two made out all right.

 


End file.
